


More

by Brighid



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Holiday: v-day, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brighid/pseuds/Brighid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all want a little something ~more~ on Valentines. But not charred cats...<br/>This story is a sequel to No.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> This was a Valentine for a friend ... and for y'all. It is loosely based on a real incident that DIDN'T happen to me, thank heavens. Uh ... there's a bit of potty mouth. The warnings don't give that as an option. = )

## More

by Brighid

Author's disclaimer: The boys and Sentinel stuff and the loft and probably the darned silverward belong to Petfly, UPN and Paramount. I make no profit, I just have fun.

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"Romance fucking ~sucks~!" Blair announced grimly as he stormed into the loft. Jim winced as the grad student's keys clattered into the bowl by the door, then ground his teeth slightly as the younger man's coat was thrown vaguely in the direction of the coat hooks. "I am through with it, man. Me and Mrs. Palm are becoming an item, to hell with women. SHIT!" he grunted explosively as he flopped down onto the couch beside his roommate. 

Jim swallowed a grin at Blair's temper-tantrum. "Date not go well, Chief? Forget to splash on the ol' High Karate before you left?" 

Blair shot the cop a fulminating glance and flipped him off. "Ha ha ha. Bite me. This was, like, way beyond 'not well', I swear. Not well is, like, a bad table at the restaurant, maybe some stilted conversation, bumping noses at the door, y'know? This was frigging ~catastrophic~, man!" Blair swung his arms wide for emphasis, knocking Jim with a flailing fist as he did so. 

Jim caught Blair's wrist as it bounced off his left pec and held it. "And so you come home and take it out on me instead? How the hell does a date rate catastrophic, anyway, Sandburg? What'd you do, set her house on fire?" 

Blair ducked his head down, but was unable to hide the slow flush rising up his neck and over his face. Jim started hooting. "You set her house on fire?" he managed at last, wiping his eyes with the younger man's still captive hand. "Jesus, Sandburg. People should have to take out an insurance policy before swapping spit with you!" 

Blair tugged his hand back, and flipped Jim off again. "It wasn't Gina's house, man. It was mostly just her...." His voice faded into a gruff mumble that was useless in the face of Sentinel hearing. 

"You set her cat on fire?" Ellison shouted with laughter. "Christ, Chief, and you give me grief about not letting you get a pet!" 

"Yeah, yeah, shut-up already," Blair grumbled irritably. "It's not like I pulled out a zippo and went for his tail, all right? I got to her place early in the evening, and started a nice dinner as a surprise, got a bath ready with her favourite oil, lit enough candles for midnight mass as St. Peter's, and then went in to get the bedroom ready. I forgot about Fuzby, didn't even think about what he might get into. Next thing you know, I'm smelling charred fur, and he's whizzing around the place like the Human Torch on speed. Yowling like he's well ... on fire. Stop laughing, man! It's not funny!" 

Jim was on the floor, clutching his sides as though afraid his ribs might come loose. "Shit, Chief. You set fire to her ~cat~. I'm not up on the eastern spiritualism you go for, but that's gotta count for some major bad karma there, huh?" He managed to get his breathing under control, and climb back up onto the couch. "I can see how that would put a crimp in the evening. Fluffy in the burn unit is not the most romantic venue ... but she didn't think you did it on purpose, did she?" 

Blair's jaw tightened grimly. "Well, I said it was mostly just her cat. Y'see, I chased the little bugger until I finally caught him, and then threw him in the tub to put out the fire, but while I was doing that, the dinner started to burn and the smoke set off the fire system, which triggered the sprinklers. That's when she walked in to find three inches of water over everything and me holding her cat under in the tub ... and well, things kinda went downhill from there," he finished glumly. 

Jim reached out and rubbed at the younger man's neck with surprisingly gentle fingers. "Downhill, huh? Which is why you're here with me, instead of tucked up in bed like all good little boys the night before Valentine's? That sucks, Chief. Funny as hell, mind you, and I plan to dine out on the story with the guys for a month, but I feel for you, I really do." When Blair didn't respond to the jibes, he shifted around and got a good look at the other man. He swore softly and pulled Blair to face him. "What's the matter, Chief?" he asked with surprising gentleness. 

Blair smiled shakily at the older man, taking a hasty swipe at his suspiciously bright eyes. "Nah, it's stupid, man, really. It's just, like, I really wanted tonight, y'know? I wanted to it to be sappy and romantic and close and sweet and special. ~I~ wanted to be special," he clarified, his voice pitched low, as thought shamed by the admission. "It's just been awhile, y'know? Since I was somewhere long enough and strong enough to begin to think there might be something ... more. Aw, shit. I'm going to bed. I'm tired and maudlin and I'll have us watching Casablanca if I don't get my ass off this couch." He rose quickly, shaking off Jim's hands as gently as possible. For a brief moment he reached out, stroked a hand down the side of the Sentinel's face; in that instant Jim saw everything, and it was a thunderclap of realization. 

"You go ahead, Sandburg. Maybe a nap, at least. You're probably worn out with nerves. But I might order a pizza in later; I haven't had dinner yet. You want me to wake you to eat, since your dinner got ... er, ruined?" Jim asked, his blue eyes focused sharply on his partner's face. 

Blair shrugged slightly. "You can ask, man. I'll see how I'm feeling. Otherwise, good-night." He headed briefly off into the bathroom before retiring to his room. Jim sat on the couch for the longest time, simply listening to the short, jerky breaths of the other man as he tried to force himself to sleep. Somewhere between an almost silent sigh and a near-sob, something inside Jim clicked into place, and he rose up, a plan of action firmly in mind. 

* * *

)0(

* * *

"Sandburg! Get out here and eat a little something. You're stinking the loft up with keytones." 

Jim's voice rattled through the french doors and jarred the dozing anthropology student into wakefulness. He blinked sleepily against the darkness, and sat up on his elbows. "Hmmm. Wha' timizzit?" he called back. 

"Dinner time," his roommate replied unhelpfully. "Get your ass ~out~ here!" 

Blair shrugged, and smiled a little at the response. Vintage Ellison \-- always a good year. He scrubbed at his face, stood up and straightened his clothes. Yeah, the evening had sucked, but there wasn't any point in starving himself over it ... and Jim was treating. He shrugged again, and went out to rejoin the human race. 

The first thing he realized was that the loft was dazzlingly ablaze. White candles covered almost every surface of their home, and threw off myriad gold flickers that turned the normally spacious apartment into a gold-lit cavern. "What the hell's going on here, Jim? This your idea of a joke?" His tried to keep his voice neutral, but could not hide the weariness or hurt that laced his words. 

"No joke, Blair," Jim replied solemnly, from where he was laying the 'good' plates on the table. "I just got to thinking that maybe you ... needed this, or something like this." He stood, straightened slowly, locking eyes with the younger man, a question bright and gleaming in his gaze. "Do you need it, Blair?" 

The anthropologist found himself nodding at his partner. "Something like it, at the very least," his replied hoarsely. 

Jim nodded at him, a sharp, decisive move that seemed somehow vulnerable all the same. "You've been here long enough," he said at last. "And God knows, strong enough. And I want you to have ... special. You are special, Blair." The words were thick in Ellison's throat, but in a good way, the best way. 

Blair leaned back against the doors to his room, his head swimming just a little. "Thanks, man. Uh, before I make a complete ass of myself ... am I right that this is something ... more?" He waited, breath held, for the answer. 

Jim nodded again. "It's more. It's everything. If you want it." A warm armful of guide teleporting into his personal space was all the answer he needed. He stroked and petted at the younger man, wiping away the odd tear that got mixed up in the jumble of legs and arms they made. At last he pushed Blair away. "I got take-out from that new Thai place. It's keeping warm in the oven. I ran a bath ... I thought, y'know ... we could ... we might...." he trailed off awkwardly. "Aw, hell." 

Blair pulled a step or two further away, looked up at Jim with delight and just a hint of wicked good humour. "Why, Detective Ellison. I do believe you're trying to seduce me," he said, and he got the tone just right, and it made Jim laugh and sputter and knock him upside the back of his head. 

"You are such a shit," Jim said affectionately. "Yeah, I guess I am trying. Is it working?" 

Blair nodded at him. "Yeah. Yeah it is. But you already had it nailed, man; you didn't need the candles or the dinner or the bath, you know that, right?" 

Jim leaned down and kissed Blair with slow, insistent thoroughness. "Yeah, I know. Now shut-up and get into the bath before it gets cold. You still stink like charred cat, and I'll be damned if I let you make my pillow smell like that." He very carefully closed the younger man's gaping mouth and laid soft kiss over it. "I love you, Chief. There's ~nothing~ more than that." 

Blair nodded. "Love you, too, Jim." He wrapped his arms around his Sentinel and buried his face against his chest. After a moment he pulled his head back and peered almost limpidly up at Jim. "Ah, since this is how it all turned out, does that mean we can, like, keep the whole cat story between the two of us?" he asked hopefully. 

Jim caressed Blair's cheek, then tapped it lightly. "Not a hope in hell, Sandburg," he replied, pushing his Guide into the bathroom and doing his damnedest not to smile. He was, after all, in love, not bucking for sainthood. 

* * *

)0(

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An End. 


End file.
